


Nostalgia

by CheerfullyCynical



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, I really wanted some... Kinder sex with these two, I suppose i have to tag this as, Lots of kissing, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, SO, While I love the dark sexy fics that have been in this tag, vanilla sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27017419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheerfullyCynical/pseuds/CheerfullyCynical
Summary: The Master takes the Doctor to his TARDIS after he orchestrates the aeroplane crash, rather than placing her in the Kasaavin dimension. Talking happens.… A lot of (sexy) things happen.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	Nostalgia

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, SEX. LOTS OF SEX HERE. Hopefully I tagged properly. Enjoy!

O had been so sweet.

That was all the Doctor could think of as the Master stared at her with eyes full of hatred. O had been everything that the Master was not – kind, compassionate, excitable... O was everything the Doctor had ever seen in her oldest friend, and the Master used that to his advantage, playing her like a fiddle.

“What?” He asked, all fake pity, visibly switching into the spy she had come to love, “Missing your friend?”

O’s – the Master’s – living room turned TARDIS was ugly, verging on unwelcoming with the console in the middle of everything. She stared at it, wondering how she had missed such a big thing – hated that it was because she had truly trusted O. The Master had put in every effort of tricking her.

“No,” She answered, watching as he fiddled with his cufflinks. “Missing my _real_ friends.”

He laughed mockingly, right back to the Master, “ _Real_ friends. Oh, you mean the pesky humans you nicknamed _the fam._ Tell me this, how desperate are you?”

She tried her best not to react. She knew that she failed by the way he stopped doing whatever he was doing, staring closely at her. She always took his words to her hearts and he knew that – practically thrived on it.

“Grow up,” He snarled at her suddenly, “What’s another twenty years for you, anyway? That’s how long the old one’s going to last. Why even bother?”

She looked away, tired of the same conversation. She could give him a thousand reasons why it was worth it, she could give him just one, and still he would only use it to terrorize her. He was so good at twisting her words and she hated that she always _listened_ to him, not matter how much she fought his views.

He came up beside her – two quick strides that had her backing away, fearing physical violence – but it was the Master’s hand wrapping around her arm that stopped her. She tried to pull herself away, going for furious, but he only gripped her harder, nearly painful.

“Tell me, my dear,” He asked her, in a voice that had all of her limbs locking, “Have you’ve been with anyone in this body?”

She scoffed, disgusted that he asked, “You of all people don’t have the right to ask me that.”

“Says the woman that sent a simple human _kisses_ one or two times,” He answered, looking angry at the very though, “So willing, after all these years. I thought you were prudish.”

Now, there was no point in _playing_ furious – she truly was. She forcibly yanked her arm out of his grasp, watching as he stumbled, just barely catching himself. She took a step back, ready to throw at him her own hurtful words, only for him to literally crash into her, pushing her at her shoulders.

She landed with a thud, her back hitting the hardwood floor painful, briefly leaving her breathless. In another second, his hands were around both her wrists, pinning them above her head with all of his body weight. His eyes were alight with a fire she had never seen before – something that truly terrified her.

With a feral scream, she tried to dislodge him, moving from side to side, pushing upwards on his grip, but all he did was move his legs closer, nearly crushing her at the hips. The position was painful, it must have been, with his knees like that, but he didn’t seem to notice - didn’t seem to care.

She did.

She stopped moving, but sneered at him, hate buzzing in her skin. “Get off.”

“No.” As if to prove his point, the Master squeezed her wrists tightly, grinding the two bones together. She held in her cry of pain, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of it. Pure hate in his eyes, he dug his fingernails in her skin at her stubbornness, and she couldn’t help but bite the inside of her cheek. Still, she refused to show pain on her face.

How far had he fallen to go to such extreme lengths to get her attention?

They were both breathing heavily, both warn down, and the Doctor could only stare as something shifted in the Master’s eyes, something scared and desperate, and then quickly back to the thing – the person – she was so scared of.

“So pretty like this,” He whispered, eyes first on her lips, then slowly moving down. “ _This_ fits you.”

She didn’t know if she meant her body, or the fact that she was beneath him, practically helpless. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t even want to think it was because of… _That._ All… Sexual. She didn’t know her friend anymore if it was. She couldn’t go there.

“I am _not_ your plaything,” She said, every bit of the Doctor, “And you can’t call me pretty just because I’m a woman now.”

“You’ve always been pretty.” The Master replied, and she hated that it softened her the tiniest bit. She despised that any mention of their past had her forgiving him.

“ _Master.”_ She said, trying to convey just how much she loathed their new position.

But he only grinned, “What’s wrong, dear? Not liking the view?”

No, she wasn’t particularly fond of his smug face at the moment, no matter how much she had liked it as O. He had edges now, rather than softness. His eyes glinted in the dim glow of his TARDIS, full of emotion yet devoid of it at the same time. The only thing she could recognize was the unfiltered self-loathing.

But she was the Doctor – she had no time to pity him once more.

“Get off me.”

He looked…Disappointed. With a roll of his eyes, he released one of her wrists. Instead of moving away entirely like she thought he would do, he began to rake his fingernails ever so lightly down her bare arm, causing goosebumps. She froze, body reacting to it, enjoying the odd stillness. When he finally made it to her shoulder, he looked at her once, eyes like O - like her friend - and she felt herself unwind, even when she shouldn’t.

She let out a relieved breath. Slowly, she brought her one free hand to his face, moving strands of hair out of his eyes. He flinched at her touch, moving them both as he tried to get away. She did not relent. Instead, she followed him, needing him to know _just_ how much she missed him.

Finally, _finally,_ he leaned into her touch, eyes closing, head bowed as she moved to push his hair behind his ear, _just_ long enough to do so.

Something changed for both of them at that action – one act of kindness, one moment of peace, and he seemed to melt into it, whole body going lax against hers and he relaxed his hips. Another wrist was released, and she used that freedom to push herself up, kneeling on the floor with him. Eye to eye, they stared at each other.

Crazy, warn down, exhausted… There wasn’t a word to describe him. He looked almost deranged, yet peaceful as he studied her.

She was the eye of his storm.

“What happened to you?” She whispered.

His eyes opened, glistening, _real,_ “It’ll break you.”

She didn’t know what that meant – she didn’t want to know what that meant. The Doctor had no idea what he had seen, what he had learned, and – to her surprise – _she didn’t care._ All she wanted, all she wanted for a century, was to be with someone who understood her.

It was him that stopped her from saying that.

With eyes seeking permission, he moved slowly back to her. Her eyes closed involuntarily when he placed a quick kiss on her lips, soft and sweet. Knowing that wasn’t good enough, she moved her hand from the side of his face to the back of his head. Lightly, she pushed him towards her, showing what she wanted.

He smirked, but did as she asked. She had always been the gentle one, wanting things to be slow, but it was him that dragged out every second of it – deepening the kiss only when she had to pull away, chasing her tongue only when she stopped doing so… He was _teasing,_ she realized, and he hadn’t been teasing since they were children.

He had never been nostalgic. Something, something big and awful and enough to hurt even _him,_ must have happened.

She ignored that logical voice in her head. She needed him, here and now, in this one moment that almost made up for their time as enemies.

Feeling brave, she reached out with her mind, wanting to be with him in a way that was closer than they had allowed in centuries. In response, the Master placed his forehead on hers, puffs of air leaving him as he focused on _her,_ all of him pushing at her, begging for more. Both gasping, they let each other in their minds.

The storm inside of him was darker than it had ever been. Eyes wide, she pushed back against the wave of paralyzing fear, bashing it away with a sweep of her hand. In another moment, she was _falling, falling, falling – ashes and blood seeping into her skin, burning her over and over in an endless cycle, and she dared to wonder what planet other than her own had such red sand._ That was not a question for now.

Fears were easier to deal with when they weren’t her own. She pulled at them, stretching them in her hands until she finally found solid ground. Winded, she glanced around his now still mind, finding only _him._

He was stunning – always had been. His passions were always clear to see, always right on the edge of who he was, and blazing like a thousand suns. She threw herself into it headfirst, the warmth intoxicating, just as she let him into her own mind.

The Doctor should be asking what that first memory she saw was – what plagued his mind. Selfishly, she said nothing, pretending she never saw it.

They both studied each other, taking in the centuries of time lost, running threw memories that weren’t their own. He poked at one of her newest ones, laughing at when she went on trial for being a witch.

“Unfortunate,” He commented, “humans and their gender roles.”

She rolled his eyes, “loads of species have sexism.”

“Nothing compared to humans. It’s like they _want_ to hate each other.”

The Doctor should be asking what that first memory she saw was – what plagued his mind. Selfishly, she said nothing, pretending she never saw it.

She _really_ didn’t want to have a philosophical debate… Not when, in the real world, his hands had made their way to her hips, thumb lifting her shirt and rubbing at her bare skin. It was… Distracting, and _wonderful._ She left him in his mind, still connected but not tethered, and was glad to see that he followed.

“Ah,” He answered, smug, “Impatient?”

Feeling bold, not knowing how long this would last, she put her hands on his chest, pushing at his jacket, hating that he had so many layers on. Smirking, hearing her thoughts, he threw it off. In retaliation, his hands want to the bottom of her shirt.

“Bed,” She said, just before he could start, knees now screaming from being on them so long. She glanced around the room, not seeing a hallway to his bedroom, “Changed my mind. Couch, couch is very good.”

“Boring.” He muttered but didn’t complain much. Hastily, moving his hands away from her chest, he grabbed her by the collar, by her bowtie, dragging them both up from the ground.

In a mock version of a dance, he kissed her, hands everywhere, all at once, and the Doctor was forced to follow him as he guided them to the couch. In a daze, she realized that he had already loosened three buttons, and that his hand was already attempting to curl around her breast.

She had a funny feeling he wanted to be on top. Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t what she had in mind. Just before he could try to push her down to the couch, she spun them around, shoving him into the couch, smirking when he landed harshly, eyes wide.

He looked delighted. “Oh, I do like this you – so _demanding.”_

She wasn’t going to deny it. She took off the bowtie, thinking about using it, but then deciding that she simply didn’t need it. He had settled on the couch, the picture of confidence and pleasure, and something – something very new yet all the same – had her body pulsing, _wanting._

This was familiar, yet different. Still, kissing him hadn’t changed. She climbed onto his lap, sitting on him, arms going around his neck. Missy had done the same thing multiple times, and it was easy enough to replicate it.

Still very different, however. She shifted herself, not exactly liking her balance, and the Master groaned beneath her as she rubbed against him. Loving it more than she should, she moved her lips to his neck, placing delicate kisses upon him. She knew that he wanted it rough, always wanted it rough, but this felt so _new._

His hands went to the underside of her shirt, lifting it. In a dance well known between them, he helped her take off the shirt, quickly tossing it behind him. She was wearing a simple bra – blue, of course – yet the Master looked like he discovered a new species.

She smirked as his hands fanned out over her ribs, both gasping as he glided over her skin. The Master had picked a good time to feed into their mental connection. With barely any logical thought, she pulled the straps of her bra down and, before she could, the Master used one hand to unclip her bra for her.

He wasted no time. Teeth met her collarbone, nipping at her skin, and she found herself buckling against him, creating friction. His hips moved with her, nearly sending her to the ground, forcing him to put his hands around her back, steading her. Still, his mouth didn’t stop exploring.

She was gasping, feeling heat pool inside of her, causing the Master to moan loudly. She didn’t realize how sensitive her new body was. His hands went to her breasts – a totally new sensation that had her throwing her head back – cupping them in his hands, and she nearly lost sight of reality.

“T-trousers,” She said, then too tired to speak, _“Hurry.”_

 _“Bit busy, love,”_ He replied, and she could only moan in response as he bit lightly at her earlobe, his hands kneading her breasts.

She _really_ didn’t want her first orgasm to be like this. She showed him, quickly, what she had in mind, the excitement she had for the new position bleeding through: Her, on top of him, with him buried so deep in her that she could only scream his name. Fingernails would rake down his naked chest, and he would hiss beneath her, going faster, faster, faster until…

 _“Oh no,”_ He growled, banishing the fantasy, _“I have a much better idea.”_

He grabbed her around the middle, picking her up and then right back down, switching their positions. She _squeaked,_ surprised more than anything, only for him to lean over her, eyes hungry with want.

Forever the Master, she supposed. He loved to be in control of her.

“Now what?” She asked him, trying for coy. She could _feel_ his excitement through their bond.

Without saying anything, he kneeled, that infuriating smirk back on his face, yet her mouth went dry at the sight. To her surprise, his hands went to the laces of her boots. He untied them, sliding the shoe of with a gentleness she didn’t want but _needed_ right now. She watched, transfixed, as he did the other with the same amount of care. Her mouth fell open slightly, and she could only close her eyes as he placed his lips on her ankle, his beard scratching her skin.

_Rassilon, he was going to kill her._

Needing so much more, she began to undo her trousers, attempting to take them off herself, but it was the Master that pulled the fabric at her ankles. Knowing him – knowing that he loved to tease – she took off her knickers with them, letting the lace material fall of her ankles before he could whine.

She was completely bare to him… Somehow, He was still nearly clothed.

 _“Shirt.”_ She demanded, not liking that, _“At the very least.”_

“ _You’ll have to work for it.”_

That wasn’t fair, but she was getting desperate. She knew that he knew that. She placed her hand under his chin, making him come back up to her level. Knowing what he wanted, she moved her lips to his neck once more. Instead of kissing, she sunk her teeth into him – not enough to draw blood, but enough to make it hurt.

He moaned, body nearly convulsing as she swirled her tongue around her mark, soothing away the pain. He nodded, relenting, letting her grab his shirt and lift it off. He wasn’t muscular, something that she liked so much more than she thought she would. She told him as much through their bond.

Finally, he became as desperate as her. He unbuckled his trousers, shaking. She got a glimpse of him, just one _look,_ and it was enough to have her laying on the couch, legs spreading. He growled at the sight, standing above her now, studying every inch of her body.

 _“Beautiful,”_ He whispered, _“Absolutely Beautiful.”_

She blushed, not expecting such a compliment when his eyes were filled with lust. He climbed on top of her, knees around her hips and his hands above her head. Her hearts speed up at the sight of him. He leaned down, putting his erection teasingly through her folds, up and down.

It was enough to have a sane man go insane – there was no hope for her.

She buckled, hips flying up, whining. The Master shushed her with a hungry kiss, teeth scraping together. He moved then, one hand traveling down, trailing across her pubic hair. She didn’t understand at first, wanting _him_ more than his hand, but as he teasingly explored her, she found out exactly what he was trying to do.

She cried out this time, loudly, as his index finger rolled over her clit. Stars danced in her eyes as she gave into instincts, hardly able to breathe as her body clenched and unclenched in pleasure. The Master forced an image to her, showing her exactly how she looked underneath him – flushed and desperate, mouth slightly open.

She could feel his pleasure at having her come undone by his hand – quite literally.

And, as she was settling down, nearly exhausted, the Master took that moment to place the head of his cock against her entrance.

Sleep was the last thing on her mind. She nodded, _“Do it – do it now. Please, please, please. Master.”_

She could feel his satisfaction and eagerness at her words, creating a wonderful loop inside her mind. Sweaty forehead on her collarbone, he began to push himself inside of her, centimeter by centimeter, and the Doctor _lost it._

Fingernails dug into his back, probably bringing blood, but she couldn’t help it. She wrapped her legs around his hips, getting a better angle, and the Master responded, eyes closing as he fully settled inside her, shaking in pleasure.

Both of them were taking shaky breathes. She didn’t dare move. It hurt… Sort of. A hurt that was verging on something wonderful. She would be sore.

 _“Okay?”_ He asked, and the Doctor couldn’t be more grateful.

 _“Move.”_ She demanded.

That was all it took. With a grunt, he moved nearly all the way out of her then, lifting her more in the air, getting a better angle, then roughly back in. Her hands went _somewhere, anywhere_ hovering over his sides, scratching at his skin… He changed his position, hitting _something_ inside of her, bringing out a whispered promise of his name across her lips.

Three more pumps of that exact position, and she again lost her sense of reality. She clenched around him, biting into his shoulder to muffle her desperate cries. At the sharp bit of pain, he came inside of her, hot and full, and she didn’t know anything more after that for some time after.

She came to as the Master slide out of her and she made a face at the feeling. Not exactly something new, but it had been a while. Still, it was worth it.

She smiled at him as he pushed her gently to her side, sliding an arm under her head so that he could fit on the couch with her. She laughed lightly at that – they didn’t fit at all.

“Well-” She said, and an entire flush went down her body at how hoarse her voice sounded.

She could feel the scruff of his beard move on her shoulder blade as he smirked. Of course he was proud of himself. She should get up – clean herself off, take a shower. At the very least, if they were going to lie here, she wanted a blanket.

“So needy.”

Affronted, she went to lecture him about basic hygiene, but all he did was chuckle. He knocked against her, nearly pushing her off the couch.

“Go on, then,” He told her, “I’ll be waiting.”

He could _not_ mean…

But as she got up – rolling her shoulders, getting used to the ache in her core – he only looked hungrily at her again. “Oh yes, Doctor,” He said, voice like velvet, eyeing her up and down, “I plan to keep you here a _very_ long time.”

She swallowed.

The Doctor had friends to save, a planet help, and a plot to foil. The Doctor had a duty to the universe, to protect the helpless and save those that she could. _Always try to be nice and never fail to be kind._ She was failing that vow every moment she was with the Master.

Yet, as she stared at the man she once loved… Perhaps he was the one she had to save.

**Author's Note:**

> ...I'm an ace lesbian, so this could be a dumpster fire. Apologies in advance. And, first time writing sexy things. 
> 
> I also hope that the first part explains why the Master is so nice. Basically, he misses his friend now that she's unattainable.


End file.
